


Matelotage

by evilmaniclaugh



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Coming Out, Established Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 22:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3505607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmaniclaugh/pseuds/evilmaniclaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Treville demands that Athos apologises to the Duke of Savoy.  What follows, proves that sometimes the worst of situations can have unexpectedly good results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matelotage

Athos is uncomfortable with Treville's behaviour. The captain has been on edge since the Duke of Savoy's arrival in Paris, and there must be some reason for his current anger with Athos. Yes, he outmatched the duke in the duel, dominating him in all ways, and perhaps he should have allowed him a little more dignity in his loss, but he didn't like the man, he didn't trust him, and he saw no reason not to beat him soundly.

"You'll go to his rooms, you'll apologise for your behaviour and you'll grovel in obeisance if you must," snarls Treville. "In fact you'll do anything in your power to make this right. Do you understand me, Athos?"

Athos looks to Porthos, who shrugs helplessly and then glances at the king who seems as happy as a child at having his champion defeat Savoy.

"No, I do not understand, Captain, but I'll follow your orders, as always." Athos weights the final word, the implication being that he had only been doing as instructed in the first place, and this makes Treville angrier still, his eyes narrowing with rage.

"Do as I say."

It's a long walk to Savoy's chambers and Athos hopes the encounter will be a brief one.

"I'll come in with you," says Porthos, but Athos shakes his head, a wry smile on his face. 

"If I'm to humiliate myself then I'd prefer it to happen in private," he says. "Go talk to Aramis. See if you can get to the bottom of this mess."

Checking that no one is around, Porthos leans in close and presses his lips to Athos'. They open their mouths to one another, hunger overtaking common sense, just for a moment.

"We'll be hanged for this if we're not careful," says Athos, his predilection for men being one of the many reasons he'd left la Fère. Anne had been a cruel woman when she'd discovered the truth about him.

"It's worth it," says Porthos, his voice a low rumble which only serves to ignite Athos all the more. " _You're_ worth it."

Amidst the chaos of soldiering, they've found something wonderful in each other, their close friendship evolving into a sexual relationship that's now turned to love. There's no other word for it, and although neither of them have been brave enough to speak it yet, Athos plans to do so soon. It will be Porthos’ birthday celebration in a few weeks and that, amongst other things, is a gift he will give him.

"I'll see you at the garrison," said Porthos. "Don't be long."

Savoy is in deep discussion with Gontard when Athos arrives at the door of the chamber. He does not alert them to his presence in the hope that he will glean some new information, but the duke looks up and dismisses his companion.

“I have come to apologise,” says Athos, once they are alone. “I was overzealous.”

Savoy stalks forward, circling around him then shutting the doors to the chamber. “You were indeed,” he says. “You acted way beyond your station.” He pauses. “You are fully aware that a count should show deference to a duke.”

Athos does not bat an eyelid, although he wants to very much indeed. He feels as compromised as he did years ago when Anne discovered his secret.

“Nothing to say on the matter, M le Comte?”

“I apologise for my earlier impropriety,” says Athos, tipping his head respectfully. All he can do is take his leave of the man and hope that this will be the end of it.

“Did your captain force you to come here?” Savoy asks, stripping off his shirt and revealing a flabby body and something rather more significant. 

Athos stares at the tell tale scar across his back. Aramis and Marsac were right; the duke is guilty. “He pointed out that I should have let you lose.” Athos pauses, savouring the moment. “With dignity.”

“And what would you know of dignity, de la Fere?” Savoy laughs. “You lost yours when the whispers of sodomy spread through court like wildfire.”

Athos has never felt so sickened in his life.

“Hanging your wife was never going to be enough to keep such salacious rumours at bay.”

Anne's a murderer. She killed Athos' own brother and was supposed to be executed for her crimes, although her wily nature somehow allowed her to escape the noose. There is no truth to be found in the duke's words, and yet the past still torments Athos.

Without warning, Savoy pulls back his fist and punches Athos in the jaw. The man is slow from overfeeding and lack of exercise and Athos has plenty enough time to dodge the blow and retaliate, but he uses discretion and allows his opponent to win this match, in hope that it will sweeten his temperament.

“I should inform the king of your depravity," says the duke. "You’re a disgrace, de la Fere and you know it.” He aims a second punch, this one connecting with Athos' abdomen and then finishes it off with an uppercut to his chin. "Not fighting back, M le Comte. Too manly for you perhaps?"

"I can if you wish," says Athos, standing open and ready. He will not show weakness even when letting himself be used as a punch bag.

"I _wish_ you to show me your prowess," sneers Savoy. "You're skilled with your tongue in one aspect. Now show me another."

Athos takes a step back. The man surely cannot want him in that way.

"Kneel. Prove your willingness and there'll be no mention of this matter again. I'll also sign the treaty."

Athos searches mentally for an escape.

"You have a lover," continues Savoy. "How much will he suffer when the truth is revealed? He certainly doesn't have a family estate to fall back on."

Athos is caught in the trap. So far he has remained silent. Denial is a pointless exercise, and if he is anything but reticent then he may reveal too much. The only solution is to do this one thing and hope that will be an end to it.

He drops to his knees in front of Savoy, and as the man unfastens his breeches the waft of stale sweat and piss is overwhelming.

"Take it," snarls Savoy.

His cock is still flaccid when he shoves himself against Athos' lips. Human nature is a mystery. It's impossible to understand why he would do such a thing when it is so unappealing to him. Taking him into his mouth, Athos gags. This is something that he and Porthos learned to do together. It is one of his most precious memories and he hates to have it defiled in this way.

The retch causes Savoy to grow fully hard in an instant. "You loathe doing this, de la Fère and I enjoy that you loathe it. Be relieved that I can't abide the thought of fucking you. If I could, I'd mount you in an instant to put you in your place. Now finish me off. Get this over."

Tears of discomfort burning his eyes, Athos sucks the man efficiently, using all the tricks he knows, and when the duke spends down his throat Athos swallows every drop in relief. The semen feels alien in his stomach and fights to escape. Savoy is bitter where Porthos is always sweet. 

Sitting back on his haunches, he hangs his head. He has no residual defiance left in him. He is nothing but come and bile and shame.

The boot to his ribs is unexpected. It knocks him sideways and is accompanied by another and another. 

"Filthy sodomite," says Savoy as he launches a final kick and Athos can feel his lip split and burst.

He leaves the duke's chambers a bloody mess. Barely able to put one foot in front of the other, he uses the servants' exit and goes to the stables, taking his horse from the under groom then mounting up and cantering off.

By the time he reaches the livery yard, his side is in agony. Leaving Jacques to take care of the stabling he walks home, shuddering at the smallest movement.

\---

By morning he feels a little better physically, if not in spirit. He washes away the stink of wine and remains of dried blood then makes his way to the garrison, leaning against one of the uprights and hiding beneath his hat and his cloak, despite the sunshine.

"I'm sorry I wasn't around last night," murmurs Porthos. "Aramis needed to get a few things off his chest."

"It's fine." Athos grits his teeth and forces the words out of his mouth.

Porthos looks more closely at him and his expression is unguarded and full of anger. "What the fuck happened with Savoy?"

"Athos, Porthos," shouts Treville. "You're both on guard duty again. Leave for the palace immediately."

"I'm unfit, sir," says Athos. "Send two others." He won't let Porthos within a mile of that brute.

Treville is seething mad. "I'll decide on your state of fitness," he barks. "My office now."

"Let me come with you," says Porthos in an undertone, staring at Athos.

Athos knows he's aching to hold him, as he is aching to be held. "No," he says quietly. "I'll explain things to the captain first. Then, once we're relieved of duty, I'll tell you what happened last night." He won't hide the truth. They're always honest with each other.

"In bed?" says Porthos in a low voice. He manages a smile.

"No place I'd rather be," says Athos and, although it would be sensible, he doesn't attempt to disguise his words, or the long look of affection that accompanies them.

As Athos steps forward to follow Treville up the steps, Porthos lays a gentle hand on his back and he waits a moment, absorbing some of that inextinguishable strength. They exchange another lingering look and then Athos climbs the staircase.

The commander is waiting impatiently for him, slamming the door of the office shut and launching into a tirade before he is even seated at his desk. 

Once Treville is finished, Athos takes off his hat to reveal the split lip and bruised face. "I repeat, I am unfit for duty, sir," he says. "I apologised to the Duke of Savoy, but he did not accept my words."

"Only to be expected after your public humiliation of him."

Before this ugly business, Athos had trusted Treville implicitly, but now his suspicions are growing. There's something not right with the commander. He's bad tempered and twitchy. He hasn't looked Athos in the eyes for days. 

"Did you pass on the location of the Musketeer camp to Savoy?" he asks, thinking of that scar on the duke's back.

Treville moves out from behind his desk and steps forward in an aggressive display of one-upmanship. "I will not discuss such matters with you."

"Aramis is my friend and my brother. Musketeers were massacred that day. Did you, or did you not give away their location?"

"I followed orders back then. Your job is to follow my orders now." Treville shoves Athos angrily away from him.

The pain in his side too much to bear, Athos falls to his knees and looks up at Treville. "This is how Savoy had me follow orders. Would you care to do the same?" He regrets the words immediately. He's dazed and would not normally have said such a thing.

Treville stares at him. "If you're implying..." He does not finish his sentence.

Pushing himself to his feet, Athos recovers his dignity and stands to attention. "I'm implying nothing, sir. I’m simply stating that neither Porthos nor I will attend the Duke of Savoy." He turns and walks to the door.

"Athos." Treville is tense. "I cannot put up with such insubordination."

"Then you must do as you see fit," says Athos, replacing his hat. "As must we all." He's in pain, though it is not life threatening, the worst of it coming from a debilitating loss of trust in his commander.

"Athos," says the captain again. He voice is more gentle this time. "Be more careful. If others find out what's going on between you and Porthos then you will both hang and there will be nothing I can do to prevent it."

"I understand," says Athos with a genuine look of affection. "Thank you."

\---

Back at his rooms, Porthos undresses Athos and then encourages him to bed, fussing over his injuries.

"The bastard," he mutters. "I'll string him up for this."

"Come lie with me," says Athos. "That's all the medicine I need."

Porthos is only too happy to oblige, stripping out of his clothes and joining him naked in bed. Athos rests in his arms, safe in the knowledge that their entire company will be on duty and occupied for the day.

"Porthos, I have something important to tell you," he begins and the words tumble out. "Treville knows about us."

Porthos' eyes widen. "What did he say?"

"He warned me to be more careful." Athos pauses. "There is worse." Much worse.

"Tell me," growls Porthos.

"Savoy also knows."

"Shit," says Porthos. "Everything?"

Athos shrugs. "He didn't name you specifically, but I suspect we have given ourselves away."

"I had my arm around you after the duel was over," says Porthos sorrowfully. "I wanted to kiss you right there. I almost did."

Athos smiles and, although his lip hurts, he leans in and presses his mouth to Porthos'. "And I wanted you to do just that. I'd be happy for the world to know."

"This is so bloody unfair," says Porthos. "Why should it matter to anyone that I want to spend my life with you rather than a woman?"

Full of love, Athos smiles at him. "Because the bible says that our purpose is to reproduce, and however hard we try, I can never carry your child."

"I love the idea of your belly filled by me." Porthos strokes a hand possessively over the uninjured side of Athos' abdomen.

The look he gives him is heated and Athos' cock twitches with arousal, but there is something else he must confess before they give in to their desires. It's a frightening thought, because after Porthos has heard it he may no longer want him. 

The fact that Athos was under duress at the time does not alter the fact that he took another man's cock in his mouth, and however much it made him gag, he still swallowed the duke’s come. Filled with shame, he moulds himself into the contours of Porthos' body.

"Porthos, I'm sorry."

"What for, chéri?"

His voice is a heartfelt rumble and Athos cannot imagine a life where he is not able to rest his head on that chest and feel its reverberations, but he must say this and suffer the consequences. "When I was in his chamber Savoy demanded I suck him."

Porthos breathes in deeply and there is no exhalation for such a long time that Athos begins to panic.

"And you did what he asked?"

"Yes," said Athos. "I couldn't-"

They are interrupted at the worst possible moment when the door to Athos' room bursts open and in charge Aramis and d'Artagnan as if a pack of hellhounds are at their heels.

"Christ almighty," says Aramis, on seeing them in bed together.

Athos' heart doesn't so much as miss a beat, but rather it stops beating altogether. This is the worst of all things, and for it to happen now is the worst of all timings.

"Marsac has escaped. He’ll be going after Treville at the palace," says Aramis, his composure recovered. "We have the horses with us."

"Wait for us in the street," says Athos in a clipped voice and is relieved when both men obey him.

Porthos is out of bed and already climbing into his small clothes. "Stay here," he says."You're not fit for duty. You said so yourself."

"That was before the captain's life was at stake. Now it is a different matter entirely." Athos dresses quickly and straps on his weapons and accoutrements. "Porthos. What happened with Savoy was-"

"We'll talk about it later," interrupts Porthos grimly. "A lot of talking needs to happen."

\---

The tableau in the palace gardens is an unattractive sight. Athos hated the life of a courtier when he was forced to be one, and now that he is free of such nonsense, he despises it even more.

Ignoring the royal couple who are seated on their thrones, surrounded by their loving family and most loyal subjects, the four men race to the cellars, splitting up to try and save Treville's life.

A shot alerts Athos and he follows the sound of its repercussion to discover Aramis kneeling over the body of Marsac, the captain next to him, uninjured but visibly more tense than ever. Porthos and d'Artagnan arrive moments later.

"I was bitterly ashamed when I discovered what had happened in Savoy," Treville says to Aramis. The words are rushed as if he can't wait to confess. "I followed orders, but I had no idea what would come of it." He looks then at Athos. "The duke will not sign the treaty. The duchess has told me that her husband knows we are holding Cluzet in the Bastille."

Athos looks at his fellow Musketeers. "Savoy _thinks_ we are holding him. We must act quickly to prove him wrong."

\---

By the end of the day Athos is exhausted and in pain, but the outcome has been successful, and he will happily suffer some discomfort knowing that France is safe.

Aramis is quietly grieving. Marsac was not only a friend to him, but the last tie to that small company of men who were sacrificed for the sake of politics.

"I apologise for not supporting you enough in this matter," Athos says in a low voice as they hand their horses over to the stable lads. He knows that Aramis should not be left alone to brood tonight and is trying to engineer a way to make this happen when Aramis takes over and does it for him.

"You supported all of us, as you always do, Athos," the man says with a ghost of a smile. "We'll go to my rooms, have a drink to the memory of Marsac and then the four of us will have that long overdue talk."

Athos nods in agreement. He's desperate to clear the air with Porthos, but that will have to wait, and he becomes overwhelmed with worry on the short walk to Aramis' lodgings. Will he and Porthos be able to sustain a good working relationship when they are no longer lovers? Will any of them cope with the fallout from this?

"Lean on me," says a gruff voice beside him. "I'm here for you."

Athos smiles gratefully at Porthos, relaxing into the support of that strong body. "Are you?" he asks.

"Always," says Porthos, his fingers brushing against Athos' thigh. "I'm not about to give you up for no one."

"What about them?" Athos nods in the direction of Aramis and d'Artagnan, who are a pace or two in front of them.

"They can like us or lump us," grins Porthos.

Athos swallows his nerves. "And the other matter?"

"We'll talk about that later, but I meant what I said: I'm not giving you up."

Once over the threshold of Aramis' rooms, Athos takes advantage of the privacy and sags into Porthos in relief, allowing himself a moment to give in to pain and emotion. 

Porthos shields him, keeping him steady until he is himself again, back in control. "All good now?" the big man asks and Athos nods.

"Enough billing and cooing," calls Aramis. "It's time for some serious drinking."

Aramis' apartment is large and pleasant. It has doors that open onto a small courtyard garden and is a relaxing place to wile away an evening. After calling on his landlady to bring them food, Aramis uncorks a bottle of wine and pours.

"To Marsac," he says solemnly and the others raise their glasses. "He wasn't the best of men, but at heart he was an honest one." He pauses and looks at his companions. " _You_ are the best of men."

"To all of us," says Porthos and when he draws Athos against him there is no resistance. They are safe amongst friends.

Once the third bottle is downed and the candles are lit, d'Artagnan addresses them with the personal questions that Athos has been expecting all evening.

"Aren't you afraid?" he asks bluntly. "They could execute you for this?"

"I don't think about it," says Porthos.

"We belong together," explains Athos. "We may be judged someday for doing something unnatural, but it couldn't feel less so to us."

"But wouldn't it be safer and easier to be with a woman?" says d'Artagnan.

"Of course it would," says Porthos. "But if someone said you had to give up your lady and marry me instead, because it was the expected thing to do, then how would you feel?"

D'Artagnan shivers. "No offence, but no thank you," he says with a grin.

Aramis is quiet during this conversation and it worries Athos. "Does our relationship upset you, Aramis?" he asks.

"No," says Aramis. "Absolutely not. I worry for you is all."

"Worry is better than disgust," says Porthos.

"Why would I be disgusted?" says Aramis.

"Because we are sinners in the eyes of God," says Athos. He cannot see how Aramis' beliefs will allow him to accept them.

Aramis smiles. "You and Porthos have grown so close over the years, it's hard to tell one from the other. The pope may judge you, but I doubt whether God would, and it is his opinion that I value." He lounges on the bed next to them. "But still, be careful. Do not become targets. The cardinal would delight in making an example of you."

Athos grows cold. Aramis is right. Richelieu would be only too pleased to use their relationship to discredit the Musketeers and weaken the king's position.

"We will be discreet," he promises, though here in this sanctuary he cannot help but reach for Porthos' hand. "How will you manage working with Treville?"

"It'll take time," admits Aramis. "My faith in him has been somewhat dented."

"Same goes for all of us," says Porthos in a gruff voice. 

"But, like Marsac, he is a good man at heart," says Athos. "And we must forgive him this, or we cannot continue to serve under him."

A heavy silence falls over them.

"Without Treville there is no regiment," says d'Artagnan firmly.

The boy has not known them long, but he is astute and Athos admires him for his intelligence, his bravery and his spirit. "To the Musketeers," he says, raising his own toast.

\---

They are not quite sober when they arrive back at Porthos' rooms. Drunk enough to get the talking over quickly and move on to the making up, Athos hopes.

"It's cold," says Porthos. "I'll light a fire."

This bodes well. They like to be naked and free of the constraints of bedding when they love each other.

The conversation fails to ignite and something else burns more fiercely as they move together and undress each other with slow precision, but when Porthos tries to kiss Athos he pulls away, ashamed of where his mouth has been.

"Listen," says Porthos, resting his forehead against Athos' and pulling him close so that their bare skin is in close contact. "Your lips belong to me and I _will_ kiss them."

"But Savoy," is all Athos manages to say.

"I hate what he made you do and I hate him all the more for it, but I know you. You would not have done it unless it was necessary."

"I love you," says Athos. These words cannot wait for birthdays.

"And I love you," says Porthos with a smile of utter delight and this time, when they kiss, Athos does not shy away from it, but instead throws every part of himself into it.

As he drops to his knees and takes Porthos' cock into his mouth, he doesn't waste his thoughts on that humiliating assault by Savoy, but thinks only of his own, wonderful man.

The suck is a slow build to something more and as Porthos fills him, inch by inch, a hand pressed against his belly, for a moment Athos wishes he was a woman, but that thought soon disappears when Porthos takes him in hand and strokes him until he is fighting to hold on.

"Come for me," says Porthos. "I love to see it. I love to have you tighten around my cock. There's no better feeling in the world."

Athos lies back, letting Porthos' words wash over him as he gives in to the sensations. His orgasm is fierce, long lasting and full of passion, and as Porthos arches his body and shudders into him, he knows nothing but heat and love.

"I cannot hide my feelings for you," he confesses as they lie together in a sticky mess. "I'm not certain what can be done about it."

"We'll take care," says Porthos, kissing him on the lips. "We'll lock every door and close every curtain. We’ll make sure that when we’re together it’s private. Just for us."

"If you’re in danger I _will_ give myself away," says Athos.

"You love us all and give yourself away when any one of us is in trouble," laughs Porthos. "And we love you back." He kisses him again. "But I'm the only one lucky enough to be able to show you how much."

"We could room together," said Athos. "Soldiers often share quarters."

"We spend almost every night with each other," says Porthos. "Do we need to draw more attention to ourselves?"

"Setting up home is the nearest we can be to married," says Athos.

"Are you proposing?" Porthos grabs him and rolls them over until Athos is lying on top of him.

"I believe I am," laughs Athos, trying to evade teasing fingers that torture his ticklish ribs.

"And I accept." Porthos kisses him with tender presses of lips and licks of tongue. "Once we're done with Musketeers we'll run off to sea and get hitched, the pirate way."

They play together, touching and tasting each other, closer than they've ever been in their lives, and though Athos will always despise the Duke of Savoy for what he did, he can in some way be grateful, for he knows now, come rain or shine, he will have his Porthos forever.


End file.
